


All the Stars in the Night Sky (Will Never Be Enough)

by Rikaleeta



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikaleeta/pseuds/Rikaleeta
Summary: Before the Fall, each of the Archangels had a Cherub to assist them. Now, Aziraphale remains the only Unfallen one, even though he doesn't remember and he's been demoted.Still, both Aziraphale and Crowley can't shake the feeling of familiarity they feel around each other. Aziraphale can't figure out why he feels so connected to the stars. And Crowley can't figure out why he can't remember the creation of most of the Milky Way, even though he knows he made it.





	1. Prologue: Creation

Raphael felt the presence before it was anywhere near him. Even when the other angel neared him, he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He’d been informed of the imminent arrival of the cherub that was supposed to assist him.

Still, it was probably best to turn around to assuage the cherub’s uncertainty. So he turned over his shoulder, an easy smirk on his face. “Hello, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale froze, blinking in surprise. “You know my name?” 

It struck Raphael in that moment how beautiful the cherub was.  _ His  _ cherub.

“‘Course I do.” He said, instead of what he was thinking. “‘S not every day the Almighty gives us an assistant.”

“Assistant?” Aziraphale parroted, though parrots had not been invented. Neither had the planet they would one day inhabit, for that matter. Raphael cursed under his breath. 

“Did Michael not tell you  _ anything?”  _

Aziraphale looked a bit surprised at the Archangel’s language, shock flashing across his most predominant face. Raphael suppressed a laugh. “Ah, no, they actually sent me up to give you a message?”

Raphael rolled his eyes. Of course Michael would leave him to do their job. Probably too busy spoiling their assistant or training the Celestial Armies (for what, Raphael was unsure). Michael’s filling their time with the armies and their companion was the reason Aziraphale’s arrival had been so late. Why Raphael was the last one companionless. 

Still, he was careful to make sure Aziraphale knew he wasn’t the one his irritation was directed at. He could feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. It was almost making him anxious, to be honest. So he eased his smirk into something closer to a genuine smile. “Right, so what did Michael want you to tell me?” He lowered himself to the level Aziraphale was standing on, though there wasn’t actually anything to stand on. The wonderful thing about being a Celestial being was you could have a blatant disregard for the laws of physics. 

“Right. Ah, well, really all they said was they wanted you to hurry up and finish the Andromeda Galaxy. Apparently the Almighty wants the Milky Way started soon. There’s a new pet project she has, she’s calling it Earth? She wants to start it soon, or so Michael said.” While he was talking, Aziraphale had brought up his hands to twiddle his fingers. 

Carefully, Raphael approached him, laying gentle, stardust covered hands to cover Azriaphale’s, to try to calm him. “It’s alright, Aziraphale, I’m not going to yell at you. I’m not mad at you.”

Slowly, Aziraphale nodded, seeming to relax a bit. Raphael felt his lips curl into a smile- a real, genuine one, the first in a while. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it was lonely up here. He was glad the angel was finally here. That he wasn’t alone anymore. 

“What did they do to make you so afraid, Aziraphale?” 

Aziraphale’s gaze dropped to the space below them, seeming to fumble with words a bit. “Just, ah, y’know, Michael yelled at me for being late. A bit.” 

Raphael’s jaw dropped. Well, one of them, anyway. “So.” His voice was trembling a bit with anger, and Aziraphale flinched. He steadied his voice, and without realizing it, he sent out his Grace to soothe Aziraphale. “The first thing in your entire Existence that you hear… is the Head Archangel yelling at you for things that aren’t even your fault?” 

The cherub nodded meekly, and before he could think, Raphael was gathering his many limbs into his many arms. “Sorry ‘bout that, Aziraphale. I should have been there when you arrived, not Michael.” 

Aziraphale squeaked in his arms, and Raphael hastily pulled back. He’d been told by the other Archangels that he was too touchy. He didn’t want to scare the poor cherub. But when he did, there was no tenseness or disgust. Instead, his many faces were stained with the blush that hadn’t been invented yet. Raphael relaxed too, just a bit. Two of his hands took two of Aziraphale’s, and he gently pulled them in the direction of his current work in progress.

“Come on, Zira, I want to show you something.” He walked backwards. He knew the way like the back of his hand. 

“Zira?” The cherub stumbled a bit, trying to keep up with Raphael. 

“Your name’s too much of a mouthful. Plus, it’s too similar to mine. That was the Almighty’s intention, of course, but no one said I couldn’t give you a nickname.”

Aziraphale dropped one of Raphael’s hands, rounding him so they were walking side-by-side and they were both walking forward, and picked up another hand so they were still holding two hands. “Why was that the intention?”

“Careful how many questions you ask, Zira.” He sent the angel beside him an easy smirk. He was teasing, of course. He loved questions, loved answering them. Loved  _ finding  _ the answers. As far as he was concerned, curiosity was the eighth virtue. 

He laughed at Aziraphale’s concerned faces. “I’m teasing, Zira.” He looked ahead again, but one of his faces stayed trained on Aziraphale, drinking him in. He really was beautiful- some of his faces were vaguely reminiscent of the humans God had yet to create. Other faces resembled species scattered across the other planets, ones that Earth would get replicas of in the form of animals. And eyes, eyes everywhere- some the color of ice and some the sea green that covered his favorite planets and even a couple that distinct blue-purple that one would see if they looked at the Andromeda Galaxy from far away. Stardust already glittered in his hair, making Raphael giggle. He hadn’t even started working with the stuff yet. He couldn’t even imagine what he looked like right now. 

Instead of telling him any of this, Raphael turned his gaze toward the galaxy’s center. “Each of the Archangels was to receive a cherub to assist in their duties. Named after them and everything. They’re supposed to be companions as much as they are assistants.”

He glanced over and saw Aziraphale blushing deeply. He very much enjoyed that. He’d have to make Aziraphale blush more often. 

* * *

When Aziraphale arrived in the stars and saw Raphael, he froze. If had the need to breathe, the breath would have caught in his throat. 

Raphael, framed with starlight, red hair cascading down, wings beating silently… was  _ beautiful.  _

And then he turned and fixed him with that smirk, and Aziraphale knew he was done for. Especially when Raphael pierced him with those eyes- warm and golden as the stardust that dusted his entire Being. 

And Raphael comforted him, soothed him, even reached out with his Grace. Aziraphale clung to it. He couldn’t help it- Raphael was the only one who had shown even a semblance of kindness to him. Michael had yelled at him as soon as he’d blinked into existence. Gabriel had made him feel positively  _ stupid  _ for getting lost trying to find Raphael. Uriel hadn’t gone out of her way to put him down, per se, but it had still stung when he tried to ask for help and she completely ignored him.

But Raphael was kind. So he willingly followed when Raphael led him toward something. He resisted the urge to trace the ever-changing constellations in his skin. To brush the stardust from his shoulders and hair. Resisted the urge to swipe his thumb across the bridge of one of his many noses and see if those were freckles or more stardust. 

They got to whatever Raphael wanted to show him, and Aziraphale tore his gaze away from the Archangel. (If he kept one or two gazes on Raphael even as he was shown the star in progress, no one had to know.”

“I just don’t know what it’s missing.” Raphael sighed. His brow was furrowed.

“Can I try?” Aziraphale asked before he could stop himself. Raphael looked at him, surprise flashing across his faces.

“It’s just, I- you said I’m supposed to help-”

“Zira, it’s alright. You don’t have to explain.” He rounded the star- when had he left Aziraphale’s side?- reaching to take a few of his hands. “Here, let me show you how.” He reached up with one of his hands that wasn’t full of Aziraphale’s, brushing stardust from the curly hair of one of his heads. “Here. Just use your imagination. Follow your instincts.”

Raphael gently poured stardust into Aziraphale’s hands, stepping back and watching. Aziraphale closed his eyes- all of them- and focused. Gently, as if the star would shatter at his touch, he poured the dust over it.

The Archangel smiled in approval. “It’s perfect.”

“Are you sure? I didn’t change much, it’s a little generic-” He stopped talking in surprise when he felt Raphael cup one of his faces- his predominant one, he realised. 

“Zira, don’t discount what you create, what you do. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect.” Aziraphale looked into the eyes of the face closest to his. Finally, he broke out in a smile. 

“Thank you, dear.” 

The star shone happily, warm and orange. If it bragged to its neighbors that it had been the host of the meeting between Aziraphale and Raphael, that it had been the first Creation Aziraphale had worked on, well. No one had to know. 

* * *

After that, Raphael and Aziraphale became nearly inseparable. Of course, all the Archangels were close to their cherubs, but none were closer than the two of them. Even when Raphael had a meeting only the Archangels were allowed to attend, Raphael found some way to make an excuse for Aziraphale to be there. 

And besides that, they were almost always touching. Hands or arms linked, or wings looped protectively around each other. 

Gabriel, who was by far the least close to his Cherub, felt his blood boil every time Raphael bent the rules for his cherub. Anger surged in his gut when he saw their casual touching when his cherub, Agabreel, would barely look at him. He never quite realised he was jealous of their close bond, and that he was taking it out on Agabreel, which would drive them further away- it was a ruthless, endless cycle.

* * *

Aziraphale sighed in frustration as Rapahel covered about four of his faces- the only ones he could reach- and led him to who-knew-where. He closed the rest of his eyes good-naturedly. 

"Where are you taking me, dear?" 

"You'll see." Aziraphale could hear the smirk in Raphael's voice. It took all of his willpower not to just lean against him. 

Finally, they stopped, and Rapahel uncovered his faces, so Aziraphale figured it was safe to open his eyes. They were staring squarely at… nothing? He gave Raphael a curious gaze. 

Seemingly unable to hold it in, Raphael burst into laughter. "You look so confused, Zira!" He cackled and Aziraphale rolled all of his eyes good-naturedly. 

Finally, Raphael calmed down enough to talk, though a smile still played at the edges of his mouths. 

"It's the center of what's gonna be the Milky Way, love. And we're gonna build it together." His metaphorical heart sunk when he saw Aziraphale just staring at him, slack-jawed. "What? You don't li-"

"You called me 'love.'"

It was Raphael's turn to turn scarlet. Had that really slipped out? By the Almighty, he hadn't meant to say that, not yet, what if Aziraphale didn't love him the same way he loved Aziraphale? 

He only realised he'd been making a lot of incomprehensible noises when Aziraphale reached up and took his main face in two of his hands. He tried not to watch Aziraphale's own main face as he licked his lips. "Can I… Can I kiss you?" 

Raphael didn't trust his voice right now, so he merely nodded, and leaned down to meet Aziraphale in the middle. 

Raphael felt like stars were going supernova around them as they kissed, and he was fairly sure that their faces had been Created to slot together like this, that they had been made by the Almighty with the intention of them someday sharing this moment. He was vaguely aware of their others faces coming together, too, and oh, it was wonderful. He gathered the cherub in his many arms and held him tight. When finally they separated, Aziraphale looked up at him shyly. 

Aziraphale ran his thumbs across Raphael's freckles, and he shivered in delight. "You know, Raphael, I think I'm in love with you."

Raphael smiled, leaning in for another kiss. "I love you, too."

He was surprised when his lips met an eye-filled cheek. He leaned back to take in Aziraphale, to see why he turned away from the kiss (had it been that bad?) and saw him looking to his left. Confused, he followed Aziraphale's gaze. 

He almost lost his footing in shock. 

There, in its very beginnings though neither had really willed it into existence, was the black hole that would serve as the Milky Way's center. 

Aziraphale laughed, turning his gaze back to Raphael. Raphael grinned, capturing Aziraphale's lips this time when he leaned back in for another kiss. 

* * *

Aziraphale gazed around at the stars they’d created. The Milky Way was almost done- all they had left to do was form God’s next pet project, Earth, and its solar system, as well as the star system that was to be closest to it. Apparently, it was to hold the first planet outside their solar system that they’d venture to. 

He smiled softly as he spun the stardust in his hands. It had gotten easier every time he’d done it, and he loved the job nearly as much as he loved Raphael. 

_ Speaking of the Raphael,  _ Aziraphale thought as he felt the Archangel twine his arms around him.  _ Or rather, thinking of him. _

“What was that, love?” Raphael muttered, lips moving against one of his necks. Aziraphale set aside the half-finished star and twisted in Raphael’s arms to face him.

“Just thinking out loud, dear.” 

Raphael made a noncommittal noise that sounded a lot like “hrnm,” leaning down to kiss Aziraphale. They’d been doing that a lot lately- they often found that when they kissed in the deep expanses of space, unexpected things happened with the stars and planets and bits of space dust. 

This case was no different. When they broke apart, Raphael gasped, and Aziraphale turned to see what they’d (unintentionally) done. 

The star that Aziraphale had been working on was completed, glowing a warm and merry yellow. It flickered and burned, a little bit bigger than the Sun they had yet to create. 

A little bit away, a smaller star had formed. It was a pleasant orange, inviting. Perfect for the host of a planet that would be the first literal step outside the Earth inhabitants' solar system. Raphael heard Aziraphale gasp in wonder.

“They won’t be able to tell it’s two separate stars from Earth, dear.” It didn’t sound disappointed, or like he was upset that their work would go unnoticed. Instead, he held laughter in his voice.

“Sounds a lot like us, eh?” Raphael joked. He planted a kiss right on one of Aziraphale’s eyelids, one on the cheek of his main face. Aziraphale beamed up at him. 

In the end, between all the planets that Aziraphale and Raphael added to the star system, Raphael added a third star. “Didn’t wanna feel left out, or make you feel like you did all the hard work, Zira.” was his excuse, but Aziraphale knew he just loved crafting stars.

Still, he was quick to reassure him that he did just as much work on the stars in that system.

He still insisted on the third star, though much smaller and further away. It orbited what they had named Alpha Centauri A and B, which orbited each other. Raphael named the third, smaller star Proxima Centauri. 

* * *

Aziraphale had been growing worried about Raphael. He had been spending more and more time with Samael, and while Aziraphale wasn’t worried about them doing anything together, he almost never saw the Archangel anymore. Aziraphale missed him.

He had finally finished up Pluto, given it its moon, and was on his way back to Heaven, to hopefully find Raphael. Maybe they could start a new galaxy together. Maybe they could fly through Andromeda together.

What he saw horrified him.

Angels were fighting, swinging sharp blades at each other, aiming to  _ kill.  _ Aziraphale felt sick to his stomachs. 

He felt the presence of an Archangel behind him.  _ Not Raphael,  _ he knew immediately, and whirled around to see Michael. He stumbled back, startled, but they merely reached forward and pressed a flaming sword into his hand. “From the Almighty.” They said curtly, taking a step back. “Heaven is at war. Get down there and fight, Cherubim.” 

Aziraphale realised with a start that Michael had been crying. He looked around frantically and realised that their Cherub was nowhere to be found.

“Michael.” He said carefully. “Where is Michaine?” 

From the look on Michael’s face, Aziraphale thought that it would have been less painful to slap them. “Is… is he dead?” He ventured.

“Worse.” Michael pressed their lips together, looking like they were holding back more tears. “Now get  _ down  _ there, Cherubim. Follow your orders.” Aziraphale tried not to be hurt by the cutting words. Michael was upset, after all.

But what could be worse than death?

* * *

When he got his answer, Aziraphale wished with everything in him that he hadn’t asked. 

He had finally found Raphael in the fray, fighting near Samael, where else? He sighed in relief and ran to him, holding him tightly and burying his main face in the crook of one of Raphael’s necks.  _ “There  _ you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Raphael squeezed him tightly, pulling him back and looking into the eyes of his main face. “Aziraphale.” He said gently, stroking the skin of his cheek where there were no eyes. “I just need you to know that I love you, alright?”

“What? I know that, wha-”

“No one but you. I’ve remained faithful, alright? This wasn’t- it’s not because of adultery.”

Aziraphale’s head was swimming. “I know, dear, I trust you.  _ What  _ isn’t because of adultery?”

Raphael leaned down and kissed him. It was long, and sweet, and passionate. It tasted like salt. Like tears? Why was Raphael crying? 

“I just… I was able to hang on this long because I needed to tell you that. But… I won’t be able to much longer.” Raphael held Aziraphale against his chest. “I just asked too many questions. Questions I shouldn’t have asked. And now I have to pay for it.” He sighed, and kissed Aziraphale’s hair. “At least I had the sense to keep you out of it.” 

Aziraphale pulled back. “Raphael, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

Raphael’s eyes widened. “Oh, God, you really don’t know. You haven’t seen anyone- I’m going to be the first one-” He laughed, but it was without humour and full of tears. “God really is cruel.”

“Ra-” before Aziraphale could even finish the name, Raphael let out a cry of pain. He shoved Aziraphale back as hard as he could, and though it wasn't up to his normal strength, Aziraphale stumbled back a few steps. Aziraphale looked around wildly to find who had hurt him before seeing there was no one. Everyone was giving them wide berth.

And yet, Raphael was doubled over in pain. Were his wings  _ smoking?  _ Aziraphale tried to get close, to comfort Raphael, to  _ help,  _ only to find some kind of invisible barrier between them. “Raphael, what’s happening?” 

The Archangel looked at him, a pain-filled and teary smile on his face. “Don't come near me, Zira. I won’t bring you down with me.”

As if that was some sort of decisive phrase, the clouds beneath Raphael gave way, and he caught fire, and he Fell.

Fell. The word rang in Aziraphale’s ears with sickening sense, his mind finally making room for the word as the definition made itself known. The Almighty was naming what was happening, what he was seeing, and Aziraphale wanted to be sick.

He was never going to see his Archangel again. 

The last coherent thought he had before blacking out and going back into the battle was that this must have been what happened to Michaine. This was what was worse than death. This was what had made the great Archangel Michael cry.

* * *

In the end, he was the only one of the Cherubim sent to help the Archangels that hadn’t Fallen. Two of the Archangels had Fallen- Raphael and Barachiel- and two had been killed. A new substance, hellfire, had done Selaphiel and Jegudiel in. 

One of the archangels- the ones from the eighth choir, the ones Aziraphale outranked, not the Seraphic Archangels that represented the days of the week- had named himself King of Hell. Given himself a new name, too- Lucifer, or Satan depending on who you asked. 

Aziraphale felt like he was in a fog. Raphael was just… gone. His partner, who had helped him craft the galaxy that heaven now resided in, the one he’d spent all but a few moments of his existence with. 

He wished with everything in him that Heaven had chosen a different galaxy than this. Even Andromeda, where he'd still spent time with Rapahel, though less of it, would have been better than this. 

He found himself going to Alpha Centauri a lot. Seeing the two stars, remembering his moments with Raphael. He cried a lot.

When he left heaven, he had no way of knowing he wouldn’t be going back to Alpha Centauri for a very, very long time. 

But when he came back, Michael was standing there solemnly. “Aziraphale.” They said softly.

“Yes?”

They took a deep breath. “I’m going to give you a gift I only wish I could have myself. But I can’t.” They paused and rubbed their eyes. “I’m going to erase your memory. I would just erase the ones of Raphael, but… you spent so much time together that that’s basically all of them.” She stepped forward. “So… I’m going to let you start over.”

Aziraphale swallowed. He knew, that according to the definition of Falling that the Almighty had put in their heads, that Raphael wouldn’t remember him. He wouldn’t remember anything from before the Fall, except little snatches of memory here and there. 

He nodded. Took a step forward. And let Michael rest their fingers on the forehead of his lion’s head. 

* * *

Aziraphale stood on the wall of Eden. He felt lucky. He’d been given a human corporation so soon after being created, been given such an important duty.

It took getting used to, only having two eyes, and his corporation only allowed for two of his wings to be out, lest it shatter, but Aziraphale was happy. Or, well, he tried to be. Even if, for some reason, there seemed to be a hole gnawing at his heart. He couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I absolutely love researching space. It's very cool. And I had to do research on the Alpha Centauri Star System for a previous project, so I thought I'd use my findings here and also info dump in the notes for those interested!
> 
> Obviously, I took some creative liberties, but here's what we know: Alpha Centauri is a binary star system. Alpha Centauri A and B are two stars that orbit each other. They're so close together that we can't distinguish between them here on Earth, and they're the 4th brightest star in our sky.
> 
> Proxima Centauri B is a planet that orbits Alpha Centauri B. It's the only planet we've found thus far, but it's not unlikely that there's more.
> 
> Proxima Centauri A is the third star in the system. We're not sure if it's gravitationally locked to Alpha Centauri AB yet, but it's definitely part of the system.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Next up: 6000 years of oblivious gay pining.


	2. Chapter One: That's Where You Found Me

The first thing that registered in Raphael’s mind as his wings hit boiling sulfur was  _ pain.  _ It was everywhere. It gnawed at his wings and burnt his hair darker. It cut out his glowing star freckles one by one and left his skin bleeding and raw. It ripped at his insides, which he hadn’t been aware he even had until now.

He didn’t even realize he had stopped falling, that he was currently at the bottom of a vat of lethally hot toxic substance. When he finally did, he didn’t even realize he wasn’t in any form he recognized until he dragged himself out of the pool. He didn’t even bother to look at himself, just coiled up in a corner and tried to recollect.

The next thing he registered was that the results of the Fall the Almighty had told everyone, the one he’d been told before he Fell, was utter bollocks. He could remember. He remembered  _ well-  _ each star, each nebula so lovingly crafted. The only thing he couldn’t remember was how he’d managed to hold on to his Grace for so long. It was something important. Why couldn’t he remember?

Raphael (arg, that Name  _ burned-  _ he’d have to change it) was torn from his reverie when a hand seized him and held him aloft. He gaped at the face staring back at him- twisted in cruelty, a sadistic smile marring her once-familiar face. “Barachiel?” He hissed in surprise.

She winced, shaking him harshly. Raphael saw spots. “Not anymore,  _ Raphael.”  _ He understood her wince immediately. If thinking his old name burnt, hearing it _seared_ his scales (his scales? Since when did he have those?) and made his ears bleed. It would need to be changed, and soon. 

“It’s Astaroth now.” his former sister told him conversationally, as if she wasn’t dangling him by the neck of a very unfamiliar body. He couldn’t seem to find his arms or legs, though if the span of her hand on his neck was anything to go by, his neck was at least as thick as it had been. Some part of him- not his legs, but what was it?- pooled on the ground. 

“You’ll need a new name, too. The boss wants you upstairs, and soon. So think fast.” She paused for barely a second. “No ideas? Well, Crawly seems to fit you well enough.” Bara-  _ Astaroth  _ promptly dropped him. “Now get your ass up to Eden and make some trouble.” She turned on her heel, scorched skirt fluttering in the wind behind her, and stalked out of the room. 

Crawly sighed and turned to look at himself. What he saw made him want to be sick. There was no mistaking it- the long, sleek body, the red and black scales, the way he now realized his tongue flicked out occasionally- he was a snake. His one creation for Earth. It was supposed to represent Healing. And now? Now it was the face of a Demon. Had he been human, he would have bitten his lip. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t. He turned to do as he was told. 

Some things never changed, did they? He had simply traded one master for another. And although all he could remember was crippling loneliness, he could have sworn there was someone in Heaven that had made him happy. Had it really been worth leaving them for this?

But that was ridiculous. There had been no one. No one but Michael begrudgingly delivering messages every once in a while.

* * *

If anyone saw Crawly’s reaction to the Angel guarding the Eastern Gate of Eden, he’d blame it on his getting used to his new bodily machinations. He would be lying, of course, but he doubted Satan would hold it against him. Lying seemed to be encouraged Down Below. But Crawly refused to let himself lie to himself. Or so he told himself. 

The Angel was beautiful. There was no getting around it. The sun shone through his white-blonde hair like the halo he knew belonged there. (How did he know that? He’d never seen the Angel before. His halo could be somewhere else. He might not even have one.) It was absent, of course, the presence of such a divine object would probably make his human corporation dissolve. 

His body was broad, and soft. It was just a human disguise, but somehow it felt… him. But how did he know what fit the Angel? They had never even talked. The Serpent shook his head. He had a job to do.

Eve, it turned out, was bitter. Adam lorded over her just because he had been created first. Acted all high and mighty. And, best of all,  _ she didn’t know the tree was forbidden.  _ She just… overlooked it, somehow, when she gathered her food. And Crawly was more than happy to draw her attention. Even when he warned her of the knowledge contained in the fruit, she didn’t hesitate. In fact, it seemed to make her more eager.

Half an hour and three fruits later, she convinced Adam to join her. He didn’t take that much convincing, surprisingly. A very self-satisfied Crawly draped himself in the branches. 

His satisfaction didn’t last long. When he found out their punishment, he nearly fell out of the tree with shock. He looked up to the Wall, some instinct he couldn’t explain. The Angel was gone. A sick feeling settled in Crawly’s gut. He couldn’t explain it, but it was there, and he was getting rather irritated with his insides and their reactions today. 

* * *

Aziraphale whipped around when he sensed the Almighty’s voice, though she was not speaking to him. And then she saw Adam and Eve sitting beneath the forbidden tree, eating its fruit. His stomach sunk to his feet- a new sensation, it came with the body. He didn’t like it. 

But he knew immediately what their punishment would be. He would probably be punished, too. 

He threw himself to the garden floor, to where Adam and Eve were scurrying to escape the Almighty’s wrath. He barely turned over his shoulder, just enough to use his sword to blast a hole in the wall. As soon as the humans were close enough, he shoved the sword into Adam’s hand- he was closer, and he had to hurry. “Here. Take it. Don’t thank me, just get out of here. Don’t let the sun go down on you here.”

He didn’t listen to their hasty words, just turned and beat his wings to lift himself back to his position on the Wall. He waited, he knew he would be called back soon. He didn’t have to for long. The hour wasn’t even over before his surroundings melted away and he found himself face-to-face with Gabriel and Uriel. No Michael, interestingly enough. But the smile, if you could call it that, that Gabriel’s human Corporation was wearing was enough to send a thrill of fear down his spine. 

“Aziraphale!” Gabriel’s voice boomed around the expanse of Heaven. Aziraphale tried not to flinch. “Oh, don’t be afraid, we’re all friends here.” He relaxed, just a little bit. Gabriel approached and clapped him on the shoulder. “You were doing so well, up there, buddy! What happened?”

At Aziraphale’s confused glance, Gabriel continued on with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. “Well, because of you, a Demon got in! They created Sin!”

Aziraphale cast his gaze at the ground. Gabriel was right. This was his fault. Those poor humans, out in the desert, alone. Eve would give birth soon. Couldn’t he have at least waited a little longer to mess up? At least until the child was born, so they could have at least been born in safety?

“And then the tree. Aziraphale, do you live in a bubble? Is that how you missed the humans  _ and  _ the Demon approach the Forbidden Tree?” Neither of them seemed willing to point out that the Tree was in the middle of the Garden, and that the other Guardians were just as capable of watching it. Aziraphale shrunk down further. Gabriel was kind, was one of the first and most welcoming faces he’d seen, and he’d gone and let him down so spectacularly. 

Gabriel sighed. “This is grounds for demotion, Aziraphale.” Uriel blinked. They hadn’t discussed  _ demotion.  _ But Gabriel continued. “Down to Principality.”

Aziraphale didn’t ask questions. Questions made you Fall. That’s what had infamously happened to the Archangel Raphael, anyway. So he didn’t ask  _ why Principality,  _ or  _ why am I being demoted, and not the other Guardians? _ Besides, Gabriel was an Archangel. By definition, he was fair and just. So he must have his reason. 

“The only question is of your… extra appendages. Principalities only have two wings, and not to mention your heads…”

Uriel and Aziraphale both came to the sickening realization that Gabriel was casually talking about removing Aziraphale’s extra body parts. They both felt a spike of panic. The difference was that Aziraphale said nothing, where Uriel stepped up. I _ t must be the right thing, _ he told himself,  _ if Gabriel was suggesting it.  _

Uriel stepped forward to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Gabriel. “I do not think that necessary, brother. If it is in Her plan, she will take them herself."

Gabriel nodded. In the end, they drastically reduced Aziraphale’s powers, but left his limbs. He was sent back down to the Garden feeling sick and dizzy.

* * *

Crawly had no idea why he felt like crying with relief when the Angel was sent back down to the Wall. He had no idea why he felt the need to get close,  _ especially  _ when he knew the Angel carried a weapon that could smite him in an instant. But he did anyway, and the Angel didn’t even flinch when he was joined on the Wall, though he must be able to sense his Demonic presence. He found that he suddenly knew how to assume his old form, or something like it. Hell must have finally finished up his Corporation, and good timing too- he shifted into it right next to the Angel. “Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

The Angel gave a couple bouts of nervous laughter, looking between the Demon and the Humans. “Sorry, what was that?” 

Crawly tuned out of the conversation as he looked around carefully for the sword or other threats. He was vaguely aware that he was voicing some of the questions that had been circulating in his mind. He was so busy he didn’t even notice the distinct lack of power that should come with standing face-to-face with a Cherub. His gaze finally landed on the Angel’s empty hands. “Hold on.” He said, interrupting whatever the Angel had been saying. “Didn’t you have a flaming sword?”

The Angel began making a lot of inaudible noises, which Crawly took as confirmation. “You did, it was flaming like anything!”

The Angel turned away, muttering something Crawly couldn’t decipher. 

“What?”

“I gave it away!” The angel snapped. He began to try to explain himself, as if he needed an excuse to do something so kind, and then oh, Crawly realized that those in Heaven probably would have punished him by now, if they knew. So he felt he needed an excuse, and that made it all the more selfless in his eyes. Aziraphale pressed his lips together as Crawly’s heart gave an annoying flutter. “I do hope I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

“Oh, you’re an Angel. I don’t think you  _ can  _ do the wrong thing.” Crawly couldn’t keep the bitter sarcasm out of his voice, but he did manage to keep back the  _ still  _ that he had wanted to put before  _ an Angel _ . As in, he hadn’t Fallen for what he’d done. The Almighty didn’t disapprove enough to cast him out. 

Still, the way the Angel lit up at his remark made it worth it. He stammered out a thank you and a smile. “It’s been bothering me.” 

Crawly sighed. "'s been bothering me, too. Wondering if I did the  _ right  _ thing. A Demon can get in a lot of trouble for doing the right thing." He looked at the Angel. "Wouldn't it be funny, if I did the right thing and you did the wrong one?"

The Angel laughed a little bit, nervous sounds escaping his lips, and Crawly had the strangest urge to hear the Angel laugh for real. But he quickly stamped down on it, expression turning serious. "No! No, it wouldn't." They'd  _ both  _ be punished. And Aziraphale couldn't quite figure out why he cared if the Demon next to him was punished, but he  _ did. _

And Aziraphale couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he was right. Despite the walls he tried to erect around the questions, to keep them out, he wondered  _ why  _ humans couldn't choose for themselves. They weren't Angels. They weren't made to serve. 

"Wait a second." The Demon spoke up again, tearing Aziraphale from his thoughts. "Um…" Aziraphale realized he was waiting for his name before he would continue.

"Aziraphale." He supplied helpfully.

"Right, well, Zira-" he cut off when Aziraphale stumbled a bit, clutching at his head with one hand, throwing the other out to steady himself. Crawly took it without really thinking much of it to steady him. 

It felt like someone had shoved hot glass through Aziraphale's skull into his human Corporation's brain matter, and  _ twisted.  _ It burned. He saw spots, and when they finally cleared, the Demon was supporting his arm. He shot Crawly a grateful smile. 

"You all right?" He asked cautiously, releasing his arm. Aziraphale nodded carefully, hoping the action wouldn't send his vision swimming again. 

"Yes, it just… it  _ hurt  _ when you called me that." 

"Ah. That must've been someone's nickname for you before they Fell." Crawly nodded seriously, as though he'd found the answer to an age-old philosophy problem. It came off comical, and although it made Aziraphale chuckle a bit, he shook his head. 

"No, no, that can't be it. I was created after the Fall." 

Crawly knew that was utter horseshit. The Almighty had had no plans for new Angels after the Fall, and although it was entirely possible that She had changed her mind, he just…  _ knew  _ that She hadn't, somehow. But he didn't press the issue. "Alright, angel, whatever you say."

"Angel?"

"'s what you are. No way in Hell am I calling you Aziraphale every time I want to address you. Too much of a mouthful." Plus, he noted, the name was too similar to his old one. Even though it wasn't quite his, it still sent whispers of burns across his tongue and throat. 

But it was worth it to see Aziraphale quirk a small smile. "All right, then." He paused. "You were going to ask me something, were you not?"

"Oh!" Crawly had forgotten, actually. He didn't know how he missed it, once he'd noticed it. There was a huge, gaping hole where a lot of Angelic power should have been. "I could have sworn- I thought you were a Cherub?" 

Aziraphale actually flinched. "Oh, uh, I was. I got demoted, actually." 

Crawly felt sick. There had only been one demotion from when he was an Angel. It was a huge offense, something that would have made the Throne fall, had it happened anywhere near that time. He had been demoted to the Ninth Choir, and he had been too far away to hear about it or stop it in time. They had removed their extra wings, bent their wheels, forcefully changed their body until they somewhat resembled those in their new choir. 

But he couldn't bring himself to ask if that had happened to him. Instead, he asked another. "Why?" 

Aziraphale smiled sadly. "Whole business with the Apple Tree. Not stopping Adam and Eve from eating it."  _ Letting you in _ went unsaid. 

The sick feeling only got worse as Aziraphale kept talking. This was  _ his  _ fault? He should be happy. At least one less Cherub to deal with. He was a Demon, he was supposed to  _ relish  _ in pain. But he was still a Healer at heart, and the thought of someone screaming in pain (particularly Aziraphale, his brain told him not-so-helpfully) made him want to throw up. And if it had happened to all four Guardians-

As if sensing his thoughts, or at least part of them, Aziraphale cut in. "I was the only one demoted." 

"Did- did they-" Crawly could barely get the words out over the lump in his throat.

"No, they didn't take my wings. Or my heads. I did hear about that demotion before my Creation, and… I'm glad that didn't happen." He shuddered. "I think Gabriel was going to, but Uriel stepped in on my behalf. 

Crawly sighed in relief. He remembered how self-righteous Gabriel could be, but he had never hated him for it. He could feel that changing in that instant. Another  _ lovely  _ perk of being a Demon, he supposed. He could  _ hate.  _

"Just a Principality now, me." Aziraphale continued quietly. 

"I'm sorry." Crawly whispered. He was surprised to find he meant it. He didn't understand. He should be jumping for joy. This would earn him a Commendation on top of the one that was surely already on its way- inventing Sin and getting a Cherub demoted in one fell swoop. 

But the surprised, genuine smile Aziraphale granted him, he decided, was more worth it than some Commendation. 

"Thank you." The Angel told him. 

* * *

** _Hayk, 3900 BC _ **

Aziraphale sat around a fire with a few humans, listening with rapt attention as they spun stories. They were quite good at it, and he loved to listen. He shifted his weight on the log he was sitting on, nibbling on a piece of seasoned meat. He hardly paid attention to the rather loud sound of footprints approaching. 

Even with all the warning of noise in the underbrush, Aziraphale still jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. He went to defend himself, but relaxed when he heard the familiar voice in his ear. “Angel, you have  _ got  _ to try this.”

Aziraphale turned to look quizzically at Crawly over his shoulder. He was holding a vase, filled with liquid of some kind. It smelled like grapes. 

“I have to try… grape juice?” He asked. The storyteller went on as if their conversation wasn’t happening. Maybe, by his frame of reference and his listeners’, it wasn’t. 

A grin spread itself from ear to ear on Crawly’s face. “Obviously you haven’t tried  _ this  _ grape juice, angel. It’s the best kind.” 

Raising an unimpressed eyebrow, Aziraphale took the vase and tipped the liquid into his mouth. To his surprise, Crawly was right- it tasted different from the other grape juice he’d tasted. A good different. He smiled at Crawly, who had taken a seat next to him. “You found this? I though you weren’t a fan of food and drink.” 

“Oh, I think I can make an exception for wine, angel.” He gestured to the vase. “That’s what they’re calling that. It gets you  _ drunk.” _

“Drunk?”

“Ngk. Can’t explain it. You’ll have to try it for yourself.” Crawly paused. “Although. We might not want to do it here. Near the humans. One of the things it does is lower your inhibitions. Don’t want to go around telling ‘em they’ve got a Celestial Being among ‘em.” He paused again. “And. Er. I understand if you don’t wanna get drunk near me. Might not be so coordinated when you’re drunk.” 

Crawly had no idea why he was being so open with the angel. Maybe it was the wine he’d already had. Maybe he was genuinely afraid of making the angel feel unsafe. 

“Nonsense.” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers and transporting them to the small mud-brick house he currently called home. “I trust you.” And Aziraphale was surprised to find it to be true. They’d met a couple times in the century or so since the garden, and the Demon had certainly earned his begrudging trust. 

“Besides.” He continued, before he could think too much about how he was placing trust in a Demon, “You’ve tried foods with me even though I know you don’t much care for them. It’s only fair I return the favor.”

“Angel, those foods didn’t lower my ability to fight if we got into a hairy situation.”

Aziraphale only nodded, grabbing a couple smaller glasses and making his way to the rugs, where he sat with Crawly. “It’s alright, Crawly. I trust you. You can relax.”

Crawly did, a little bit. He did watch the amount of wine he drank very carefully, though. He didn’t want to do something silly like say how much the angel’s trust meant. Not when he himself didn’t know why it meant so much. 

Still, sitting here with Aziraphale was one of the best nights he’d had in a while. The wine wasn’t enough to get either of them spectacularly drunk- Aziraphale could hold his wine surprisingly well- but they both spent the night enjoying each other’s company and the pleasant buzz at the back of their skulls. When they were done and Crawly decided he should leave before either of them got caught, he showed Aziraphale how to empty the wine from his system so he didn’t suffer from the after-effects. 

Crawly left the hut with a smile on his face. He decided that that had probably been the best night of his life. He still didn’t know why the angel and his company had such an effect on him, but he wasn’t complaining. Perhaps he should be. He knew most other Demons would have killed the angel- really, truly killed him, not just discorporated him- for sending the strange feelings through their gut that he was. Luckily, Crawly was not most Demons. Besides, though he didn’t know why, he rather enjoyed them. They were pleasant, in an odd sort of way. 

* * *

** _Mesopotamia, 3004 BC _ **

When Crawly heard about the Ark that Noah was building, she was filled with immediate fury. Who did the Almighty think She was? Well, the Almighty, obviously, but still. What gave Her the right to kill  _ everyone  _ and call it just and good? That was- that was something  _ Satan  _ should be doing. 

And really, was worshiping other gods really so great an offense that She had to kill everyone for it? 

She went to Mesopotamia with every intention of destroying the boat. If Her little pets, Noah and his family, couldn’t use the boat, if Her animals wouldn’t survive, maybe She would stop it. 

When she saw the figure in white standing at the fence, watching and wringing his hands, she felt cold anger chill her to the bone. Aziraphale was always making one excuse or another for Heaven.  _ Well,  _ she thought, stalking over to him,  _ let him excuse this.  _

She plastered on a good-natured, innocent grin as she came up behind him. “Hello, Aziraphale!” She crowed with fake ignorance, ignoring the slight burn. She didn’t feel like using his nickname right now. 

The Angel in question turned, a nervous smile growing on his lips at the sight of her. “Crawly.” He greeted her in turn. 

“So.” She said conversationally. “Giving the mortals a flaming sword. How’d that work out for you?” Remind him that he loved the humans. Then throw the Ark in his face. Remind him that he loved them. Then watch him try to defend their destruction. 

“The Almighty has actually never mentioned it again.”

Crawley was thrown for a second.  _ Again?  _ Either that meant that he’d outright told God he gave away Her flaming sword- ballsy- or he’d lied to her face- even  _ more  _ ballsy. Crawly tried not to be impressed. She was here for a reason. “Probably a good thing.” She told him. She looked around, pretending not to know what was happening. “What’s all this about? Build a big boat, fill it with a travelling zoo?”   


“From what I hear,” Aziraphale told her, lowering his voice as if this was gossip among human teenagers, “God’s a bit tetchy.” Crawly stamped down the anger that boiled up as he talked.  _ Tetchy?  _

But Aziraphale was still talking. “Wiping out the human race. Big storm.” 

Crawly looked around in horror. That, she didn’t have to fake. “All of them?”

“Just the locals.” How was Aziraphale being so nonchalant about all of this? How was he ok with this?  _ Maybe,  _ Crawly thought bitterly as Aziraphale pulled excuses out of his ass about some on other continents being spared,  _ he’s not the Angel I thought he was.  _

Still, she forged ahead. She didn’t know why she didn’t just leave in an angry huff. She should have. She had to make Aziraphale  _ see  _ how wrong this was. “But they’re  _ drowning  _ everyone else.” Aziraphale pressed his lips together, nodding. There! Maybe, just maybe, she could make him care! She looked around wildly. Her eyes landed on a group of children, new horror settling in her chest. “Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.” 

Aziraphale continued nodding, and only now did Crawly see the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Well,  _ good.  _ If he could perpetuate this, he deserved a lot more than a good cry. “That sounds more like something  _ my  _ lot would do.”

“Yes, but, when it’s done, the Almighty’s going to put up a new thing, called a  _ rain bow,  _ as a promise. Not to drown everyone again.” 

“How kind.” Crawly drawled. She sighed. She could hear the bitterness, the resignation in Aziraphale’s voice. He was trying to convince himself as much as he was her. It didn’t mean she’d let him off the hook that easy. But maybe she could ease up. It really wasn’t his fault. He was only a Principality, he didn’t really have any say in anything. And that was  _ her  _ fault. 

Still, she thought, watching helplessly as a unicorn ran away. “Why don't you  _ do  _ something about it?” She didn’t even realize she’d said it out loud until Aziraphale responded. 

“What do you suggest I do, Crawly? I… I  _ hate  _ this, I really do, but I’m terrified of what’ll happen if I ask questions. Of what will happen if I try to stop this. Even if She doesn’t do anything,  _ Gabriel-”  _ He stopped his tirade on a broken-sounding noise and a shudder. “Gabriel will.” He finished quietly, lamely. 

A new bout of anger swelled up in Crawly’s chest. It wasn’t at Aziraphale, though there was still some simmering anger at him in there. “What- what has Gabriel  _ done  _ to you, Aziraphale? You sound terrified of him.” Her voice was quiet with dangerous anger. Why was she getting angry in defense of an Angel? None of her emotions around him made sense. 

“Nothing I don’t deserve.” Aziraphale answered, his voice just as quiet, though for different reasons. He looked at his hands as if they were extremely interesting. “If I wasn’t such a useless, incompetent Angel, he wouldn’t have to do anything. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten into trouble before, I could have gotten away with something here.”

“Useless Angel? W-” Aziraphale cut off her protest, and she only realised then that she had been reaching out to touch him.

“I have to go, Crawly.” And he was gone.

* * *

** _Two weeks later_ **

Crawly huddled in a secret hidey hole in the ship, sheltering a couple of the youngest children behind him as he heard footsteps approach. His stomach sunk like a stone when he saw Aziraphale appear in the doorway. He pushed the children further behind him. “Angel, if you even  _ think  _ about throwing the children off this boat, I’ll discorporate you so fast-”

“I never saw anything.” He said simply. “How could I see anything through the wall that wasn’t supposed to be here? Ah, well, I must have looked at the wrong blueprints.” He said, and before Crawly could ask what wall he was talking about, Aziraphale had stepped out of the doorway. A wall stood where he had been, and a small pile of food and water laid in the middle of the floor. Just enough for the children, and he found that it replenished itself daily. 

Crawly recognized the gesture for what it was. Or, at least, he hoped it did.  _ Just a couple small miracles. Hopefully nothing Gabriel will notice, so that you don’t have records of miracling food for humans. There would be no excuse for it for you. I can make one. _

_ I found a way to help. _

Crawly felt that anger at the Angel melt away. He had helped where he could, where he felt safe. 

He had the strangest urge to help the Angel feel safe a lot more often. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Google search history now contains, for better or worse:
> 
> -when was wine invented  
-what was Armenia called in biblical times  
-earliest record of written language
> 
> The history of wine, or what little research I did into it, is actually pretty interesting! It was actually invented loooong before Good Omens said the world began, so I had to pull a lot out of my ass (which the Google search was supposed to PREVENT.) Turns out people were making low-alcohol content wines as early as 10,000 BC, when they gathered berries in pottery jars and left them for a few days. Early records of purposeful wine-making date back to 6000 BC in China. The earliest known winery was in 4100 BC, in Armenia (then Hayk or Bel, depending on the source)- still before the world exists in Good Omens. But a good place to start for bullshitting history, lol
> 
> I wanted to include the Tower of Babel, but the chapter was getting too long and I wanted to try to get it posted today. We'll just pick up there next time!


	3. Chapter Two: Stories Told To Me And Stories Told To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry I kinda disappeared for like a month. But I'm back! *jazz hands*

** _Sumeria, 3002 BC_ **

Aziraphale was sitting around another fire, listening to another story. He didn’t know how, but the settlement known as “Sumeria” had survived the flood. It was quickly growing, and would probably soon earn the title of “city.” And the stories they told- they looked at the stars, and spun tales from their cloth. They drew lines between the shining lights and made stories to match. It made his heart warm, seeing them love the stars so.

A woman sitting at the fringe of the fire caught his eye. She was listening intently, but furiously scribbling a stick into a clay slab. The slab was hard enough not to conform to the shape of her lap, but soft enough the lines etched themselves into the stone. He got up and joined her. 

“What are you doing, dear?” He asked softly, so as not to interrupt the storyteller. She startled a bit, jumping and making an accidental line. “Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you!” He added quickly.

She sighed, smudging away the line. “It’s ok. Not really doing much.” She looked away. “‘Sides, you’d laugh at me if I told you. Everyone else has.” 

Aziraphale gave her a gentle smile, though she was looking away. “I promise I won’t. It looks interesting, what is it?” 

The woman sighed, licking her lips nervously. “I’m… putting it down into stone. I don’t know what to call it yet, but we have ways of speaking, of telling stories, we should have ways to…  _ look  _ at them later. To absorb the words, but silently.” She fiddled with her stick, while Aziraphale’s grin grew wide. 

“My dear, I think that’s a  _ wonderful  _ idea.” He said earnestly. The woman looked up in shock.

“Really?” Aziraphale nodded emphatically, and the woman grinned so wide it nearly split her face. She offered a hand. “I’m Nisaba.” 

Aziraphale took it, shaking. “Aziraphale.” 

They both quieted, listening to the story, Nisaba scrawling it on her tablet. Aziraphale had a sort of self-satisfied smile on his face, though only those that knew him well enough would recognise it as such. In the brief moment of hand-to-hand contact, Aziraphale had bestowed a blessing, to make sure her idea stuck. That people used it. And, most of all, that she was remembered for it. 

So when Crawly walked up to the fire, having followed the trail of Angelic essence (and hoping it was Aziraphale and not someone else, because if it was, he was probably screwed) he saw Aziraphale smirking like he had on the ark. A grin spread across his own face as he approached and flopped down next to Aziraphale.

“So, angel, what’d you do?” The angel didn’t so much as flinch. Crawly tried not to think about that too much. If he did, the annoying flutters would start up again. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean.” Aziraphale said. He carefully didn’t look at Crawly, or how the firelight made his hair look even more flame-like than usual.

“I felt a blessing, and you’re sitting here smirking like you just fed an orphan behind Gabriel’s back.” Aziraphale flushed, but a flash of fear ran across his face. He glanced around. “It’s alright, angel. He’s not gonna jump out from behind a bush.”

Aziraphale looked down at his hands, fidgeting with his thumbs. “You don't know that.”

Yes. He did. Because as much as he was growing to hate his siblings- Astaroth was absolutely sadistic and insufferable, a terrible combination, and he was quickly finding out Gabriel was an abusive prick- he could still sense when they were near. But he couldn’t exactly tell Aziraphale that. ‘Hey, angel, guess what? I’m actually the former Archangel Raphael, y’know, the one that Fell for asking too many questions, the one that tried to get you to question things just two years ago? Anyway, yeah, I can still sense other Archangels, so I know you’re safe.’ Yeah, that would go over  _ really  _ well. 

Instead, he flashed a grin. “Trust me, angel. You’re alright.”

Aziraphale looked up at his face, as if searching for something. Crawly didn’t know what it was, or if he found it, but he eventually nodded. “Alright.” For some reason, that struck up the  _ very  _ strange,  _ very  _ hard to resist urge to gather the angel under his arm, and hold him there. Tenderly. He clenched his hands in his lap to help resist pulling the Angel in.

For his part, Azirphale was trying his best not to lean into Crawly and  _ relax for once.  _ He unsuccessfully tried to steer his brain away from things like wondering what the Demon smelled like. Hoping to help distract himself, he took a deep breath. “If you really must know, I gave her a blessing.” He tilted his head toward the woman still quietly working. His voice was so quiet that if not for his Demonically enhanced senses, Crawly wouldn’t have heard him. “She’s putting language into a physical, tangible form. Doesn’t even have a name yet. I made sure it’ll succeed, but I never was good at naming things.”

Crawly nodded. He could see how this could go very, very badly. But it could also go very well. Like most things, he supposed, it would depend on the hands of the human it was in. So with a smirk, he leaned over the angel, toward the woman. “What if you called it writing? What you’re doing right now. And when you go back later and look, it can be reading.”

The woman seemed to consider this, then nodded. “That… sounds right, actually. Thank you.” 

Crawly leaned back to his spot, his own self-satisfied smirk in place. If he noticed how red Aziraphale was, he didn’t mention it.

** _Babylon, 2242 BC_ **

Crawly leaned back on his hands, watching the humans down below from where he was perched on a high cliff face with a paradoxical sort of bored curiosity. He had no idea why Beelzebub had told him to encourage that architect to move forward with the building plans, nor why there was so much opposition in the first place. He wanted to build a tall tower, so what? 

He sighed. All that was left to do was wait. He didn't know what for- Beelzebub had been incredibly cryptic.  _ "You'll know," _ ze had said. 

Crawly ground his teeth as he watched the humans below him. What a waste of time- there were a lot of other things he would rather be doing than waiting for God knew what. Like drinking.  _ Or trying to tempt that Angel into drinking with him again. _

He chased that thought away quickly. Just because they had drunk together almost as soon as wine came into existence didn't mean they should keep doing it. Even if they had talked over ale a couple times since the Ark. 

Crawly shook his head in effort to fully dislodge the thought. Hanging around a Demon couldn't be good for an Angel. And though he was determined to help the Angel out of the sticky situations they inexplicably found themself in, he'd be damned before he let the Angel Fall. 

_ Well. _ He thought, his efforts in discontinuing the train of thought failing spectacularly. _ I'm already damned. But that's not the point. _

Crawly sighed, shifting his position again so he was hugging his knees and resting his chin on them. He could never sit still for too long. 

His identity before the Fall still remained very much secret. The only one who knew was Asmodeous, and it wasn't like  _ she  _ was going to go around telling people. That might put him in a position of  _ power. _ The idea was just as distasteful to him as it was to her.

Somehow, Beelzebub had risen above zer former siblings, the former Archangels' companions. Only six had Fallen, and no one knew what had happened to the final. Crawly did- he had never met his companion. They hadn't been brought into existence before he Fell. 

His eyes caught on a woman down below him, wearing a white robe and a pastel blue head scarf. She reminded him of Aziraphale, and he allowed his mind to wander, just for a moment, on what it would have been like if Aziraphale had been his companion. Their name and Crawly's former name were similar enough. Maybe that had been Aziraphale's original purpose, but had only been created after their intended companion Fell. Or rather, brought into existence. There was a difference, God had assured them- just because something had been Created did not mean it Existed yet. (Crawly still had trouble wrapping his mind around that one.)

_ Hold on a second.  _ Crawly's thoughts abruptly (finally) screeched to a halt. 

She didn't just _ remind _ him of Aziraphale. She  _ was _ Aziraphale. 

Crawly sat up straighter to watch her as she rushed from person to person, speaking for a minute or two at a time before moving on. From what he could see, she seemed rather distressed. 

He focused his vision, employing a small miracle to let him zoom in on her face like he was using a piece of concave glass. He let a small amount of his demonic aura seep out, just enough for her to sense him. 

Aziraphale's head whipped around as soon as he did, searching for the source. She looked angry and determined as her eyes searched for him, but her entire face softened when she saw him. 

Part of him was extremely happy at the softening, and he wasn't sure why the trusting look on her face made him feel so euphoric. The other part of him felt extremely distressed- the Angel definitely should  _ not  _ feel so comfortable around Demons. It could-  _ would-  _ get her discorporated, at the very  _ least. _

With one last defeated glance around at the people surrounding her, Aziraphale vanished with a faint burst of holy energy. Crawly felt a small pang of disappointment; he had been hoping to talk to her, at the very least. He hadn’t seen her since they had met in the city only a mile from here, close to four centuries ago. 

He jumped when someone sat next to him on the cliff face, nearly pitching himself off. Strong hands caught his arm, pulling him back up. “Sorry, sorry!” Said the voice attached to the hands. Crawly smiled.

“Hello, angel. You always start your days by startling Demons off cliffs?”

Aziraphale’s hands fluttered and inch or so away from Crawly’s skin. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to spook you.” She finally folded her hands into her lap and turned her attention back to the humans with a saddened sigh.

“Angel? What’s wrong?” Crawly barely resisted the urge to place a comforting hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

Aziraphale gave Crawly a weak smile. “The Tower. I’m trying to stop them from building it.” She let out a puff of air, which tousled the curls falling over her forehead. “'Trying' being the operative word. They won’t listen to me.”

Crawly arched an eyebrow. “What for, angel? It’s just a tall building. No harm in that.”   


Aziraphale gave him a helpless look that made it quite obvious he had missed something. Something  _ big.  _ “If it were about building a tall tower for the sake of a tall tower, there wouldn’t be an issue. But, Crawly.” She paused, licking her lips. “Crawly, they’re trying to reach God. She’s going to punish them if they get much further.”

Crawly’s blood turned cold. Technically, it was never  _ warm,  _ per se, since he was more reptilian in this form than the humans he was imitating, but the effect was the same. “What?” He croaked. 

“They want to reach God.” Aziraphale confirmed, nodding. “Talk to Her. Ask Her all the big existential questions. They won’t listen to my warnings.” Aziraphale’s voice broke off in a whisper.

“Oh, Satan, this is my fault.” Aziraphale gave him a questioning, slightly hurt look, but he forged ahead. “Beelzebub told me to do anything in my power to make sure the Tower got built. I tried to ask what for, but ze just waved me off. Said I’d know when it happened.” He brought his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. “First the Apple. Now this. I keep fucking things up for humanity, huh?” He was extremely grateful, in that moment, that snakes didn’t have tear ducts, because if he did, he would probably be crying. As it was, it was hard to stop his corporation from forming some.

He almost jumped again when he felt a gentle hand on his arm, but resisted.  _ It’s Aziraphale,  _ he realised, and he only resisted leaning into the touch by remembering that this was probably a lot of contact for the Angel. Heaven had already been hurtling toward never touching when he had… left, and from what Aziraphale had said, it had only gotten worse. 

“It’s not your fault, my dear. You didn’t know. It wasn’t even your idea. In the end, all you did was strengthen the resolve of the only people that really had a say. You didn’t tell them to ignore their doubts. They’re doing that all their own.”

“How do you know that?” Crowley sniffed. He didn’t mean for it to come out so accusing, but it did. 

“My dear, I only sensed you when you let me. Meaning their was little, if any, ambient energy from demonic miracles. The Tower Project has only been going on a few weeks. If you did any more than strengthening resolve, I would have sensed it.”

“I can quell doubts without magic, angel.”   


“And yet I can always sense that you’ve been there whenever I happen across a town you left less than a month ago. The doubts you quelled, the questions you asked. No specifics, of course, just that you’ve  _ done  _ it.” Aziraphale paused, absently rubbing Crowley’s arm. “My point, Crawly, is that this isn’t your fault. It’s completely, utterly Human.”

As if punctuated by Aziraphale’s speech, there was a low rumbling in the distance. Crawly looked up to watch in horror as the Tower collapsed in on itself. Even from where they were on the cliff, they could hear the screams and see people fleeing the Tower. When it stopped, the once awe-inspiring Tower of Babel was no more than a pile of rubble surrounded by angry, scared, screaming humans. 

Aziraphale sighed and stood up. “Well, I better go see if I can help. Y’know, pull humans from the rubble, heal the injured.” She unfurled her wings, and the light shining off the ivory feathers made Crawly’s breath catch.

“Wait.” Crawly said, standing and dusting his robes. He let his wings unfurl, too. “I’m coming with you. I may be able to help.” After all, he used to be the Archangel of Healing. He still had that power.

Aziraphale turned and fixed him with that smile that made his heart stutter.  _ Shit,  _ he thought, because if this was what he thought this was, that was what he was deep in. If this was what humans were always spinning tales about, he was in huge trouble.

It only took Aziraphale turning and throwing herself off the cliff, gliding down to the humans and rushing to the tower with her wings spread, for Crawly to confirm it to himself.

_ Fuck. I’m in love with an Angel.  _

** _Heaven, Year Unknown _ **

Aziraphale stepped into Gabriel’s office uncertainly. The last time he had had a private talk with Gabriel was when he had been demoted. He noticed a distinct lack of Uriel this time, or any other Archangel for that matter. 

“S-sir, you said you wanted to see me?” Aziraphale said cautiously. He fiddled with his robes nervously. Gabriel finally looked up. 

"Stop fidgeting, Aziraphale. It's unbecoming." Gabriel snapped. Obediently, he stilled his hands, though they still buzzed with nervous energy. He could  _ feel  _ the anger radiating off Gabriel. It only spiked his anxiety higher. 

Gabriel set down his pen, standing up. He offered Aziraphale a very tight, fake smile. The sort businessmen gave associates they hated but had to maintain an acquaintanceship with. "Zira." He said, and though his voice was amiable, it sent the burning pain slamming through Aziraphale's skull. He pressed a hand to his forehead and tried in vain not to stumble. "I can call you Zira, right?" Gabriel said, either not noticing or not caring about Aziraphale's pain. 

"Please don't." Aziraphale whimpered, both fists pressed into his eyes now. 

"Right. Anyway, Zira, it seems we have another huge failure on our hands, courtesy of you." Gabriel was still maintaining that fake smile, but all Aziraphale was seeing was stars. His head was thrumming with a continuous ache now. He wanted to go home, have some tea.  _ Maybe I could try "sleeping off the pain,"  _ he thought. That always seemed to help the humans. 

Gabriel was still plowing on, though, and he had a way of making people pay attention. It probably came with being an Archangel. "Because of you,  _ again,  _ the Demon Crawly got past our defenses on Earth and tempted the humans to theory destruction. This is your fault, Aziraphale."

Once again, Aziraphale didn't point out the flaws in that logic- that Crawly did the temptation, that it was originally the Humans' idea and Crawly just took away an inhibition or two, that there were other Angels on Earth, that they could send more. Because this time, the logic made sense. He was the Angel in that area. It was his job to protect them. 

"I'm sorry, Gabriel." He whispered. He squeezed his hands together to prevent more fidgeting. 

"The Humans would be a lot better off if  _ you  _ weren't down there, being useless, instead of another Angel. But I'm going to give you one more chance."

"I understand, Gabriel. Thank you." He was practically whispering now.

"I don't think you do,  _ Zira."  _ Gabriel sneered, and Aziraphale looked up to see that Gabriel's smile had turned a touch feral. Aziraphale managed to catch himself before he stumbled this time. "But you will."

Fear seized Aziraphale's heart. Scratch that- he'd been afraid since he came up here. What grabbed his heart was  _ terror.  _ "I'm sorry?" He squeaked. 

"Your wings, Aziraphale. And your non human heads. Manifest them. Now." 

Shaking now, Aziraphale took a step back. "W-why?" 

"Letting you keep your extra limbs, the ones the other Principalities do not have, was a  _ privilege _ . One you do not deserve. Manifest them, now." Gabriel's voice was commanding, and left no room for argument. He took a step back, shed his human corporation. 

It felt so  _ nice  _ to stretch, to let his bound limbs free. If only it were under better circumstances. 

Gabriel took his sword from its place on the wall and stepped toward Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale was sure his screams rang throughout Heaven that day. He spent centuries wondering why no one came to help, but eventually came to the conclusion- with a little push from Gabriel- that everyone up there simply hated him, and didn't want to help.

He only found out much, much after that that Gabriel had let no sound escape the office. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title this week is from Glory by Bastille! Last weeks title was from For The Longest Time by Billie Joel!
> 
> Fun fact: Nisaba is the Sumerian Goddess of Writing amd is the Scribe of the Gods. She's also the Goddess of Accounts. So like, buying and selling grain and how much you paid? She was in charge of that.
> 
> So, yeah! Not as much history info dumping this week, but you could always come yell at me on [tumblr!](www.tumblr.com/blog/fabnamessuggestedbytumbler)
> 
> Or you could check out my Ineffable Husbands playlist! 

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell at me on [tumblr!](www.tumblr.com/blog/fabnamessuggestedbytumbler)
> 
> Or you could check out my [Ineffable Husbands playlist! ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4hrhdgIY7v1NEtWbwdnBp8)


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